


proof of life

by LadyMerlin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Body Image, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Loving Marriage, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Supportive Edward Elric, Supportive Riza Hawkeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Roy looks down at his own body a little ruefully, and Ed knows what he's seeing. He's seeing an amalgamation of scars, an encyclopedia of aches and pains. An armory of weapons that just don't work the way they used to, a little rusted and broken, edges blunt from disuse.He doesn't see what Ed sees;life.





	proof of life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic which hints at an eating disorder and/or body-image issues. 
> 
> First and foremost, **please be kind to yourselves**. Nothing terrible happens in this fic, save for self-deprecating thoughts and a few skipped meals, but we all have different thresholds. If you think this might hurt you, please don't read it. I assure you that the ending is a happy one, and that no one suffers irreparable harm. Roy and Ed overcome some communication issues and this does not test their relationship.

Contrary to popular belief, Ed is capable of being pretty observant.

When Roy flinches away from Ed’s hands on his hips, every smouldering ember inside him dies instantly, submerged in icy water. He props himself up on his elbows to avoid disrupting the gorgeous spread of Roy’s thighs across his hips. He laces their fingers together, concern furrowing his brows.

“Are you hurt?”

It’s a valid question, if one Ed never thought he'd have to ask. He and Roy have been together like this for nearly fifteen years, and they’ve hurt each other before, both physically and mentally, but Roy has never before flinched from him. Not once.

Roy huffs but there’s a tension in his shoulders which Ed hasn’t seen in a very long time. “No, I’m not injured, don’t worry.”

That’s like asking the planet to stop spinning, or the stars to stop burning; it’s not going to happen. Ed untangles their fingers and moves to lay gentle palms on Roy’s sides again, at the joint where his hips connect to his thighs, intending to probe gently for any patched-up wounds, because he doesn’t trust his dumbass to be honest about his own health. But Roy flinches again, and that’s when Ed knows something is _wrong_. He hadn’t even touched Roy.

His mind races at the speed of light, through possibilities and problems and possible solutions, eyes searching in the dark room for some sort of clue as to what’s going on. Roy doesn’t say anything; stays still, like a cornered animal hoping that a predator doesn’t catch sight of him in the dark.

Gone are the days when Ed enjoyed making people nervous, least of all this person, sitting in front of him. _His_ person.

“Do you,” Ed starts, and doesn’t know how to finish.

“Are you tired?” He asks, when he finally makes sense of the words tumbling around in his mind. It’s not what he really wants to ask, but it’s all he can manage when a hundred more ugly thoughts are bubbling up behind his teeth. Roy has never _not_ wanted to have sex with him. Roy has never not _wanted_ him. What if –

“Yeah,” Roy replies, a word which Ed taught him to use through years and years of positive reinforcement. It makes him feel a little better, but it still doesn’t resolve the fear that races through him at the thought that Roy might not want this anymore. Ed has never before hoped that it was an injury keeping his Husband from him, but compared to the alternative...

“Would you like to go to bed?” Ed asks, gently settling his hands on his own thighs; it’s probably safer that way. Roy nods, and that’s that. Ed falls asleep curled up in Roy’s arms, cooking up ways to observe Roy in the shower the following morning, with his eyes _and_ his hands, just to be sure that he's still all there, that there are no bits missing.

When morning comes Roy is gone, leaving no trace save for rumpled bedsheets and a cup of lukewarm coffee, and Ed’s chest aches.

-  
  
It happens again.

One day he gets home later than Roy, which is hardly an unusual occurrence, but infrequent enough that it’s a novelty to walk into a brightly lit home.

Roy’s standing at the stove, wearing a dorky apron Al had bought for them, and when he flashes Ed a quick grin over his shoulder, Ed’s filled with so much love that his heart’s fit to burst. It’s not reasonable, how much he adores this man.

He kicks off his boots and moves to stand directly behind Roy, all the better to press kisses into the crook of Roy’s neck, where he’s just a little ticklish, to make him squirm until he turns around and kisses Ed properly. It’s all going well until he wraps his arms around Roy’s stomach, and Roy flinches so hard that he jostles the pot of rice on the stove.

Ed steps back and holds his hands up, as non-threatening as he can make himself. This is wounded animal Roy, again, facing him with his back to the stove. It’s clear how hard he’s working to still his heaving chest. Ed takes another step back, because maybe that will help. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but if Roy is scared of him...

He shoves his breaking heart aside to focus on the situation at hand. “Did I hurt you?”

The question is enough to startle Roy out of his reaction. “What?” He asks, an uncharacteristic failure of eloquence.

“Did I hurt you, Roy? Please tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.”

The words are meant to help, but Roy just seems to shrink in the face of them, shoulders going small and vulnerable. “It’s not you, Ed. I promise. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

That’s obviously not true, but Ed’s not fifteen anymore. He doesn’t have to be the sole champion of truth, anymore. Roy is... entitled to his secrets.

“Okay,” he says, instead of demanding that Roy tell him the truth, or begging on his knees for Roy to forgive him his transgressions, whatever they might be. “Alright. I’m sorry, anyway,” he says, and he is. He genuinely regrets this, whatever it is. Before Roy can try to absolve him of blame, he continues. “Dinner?”

Roy smiles at his attempt to change the topic, but it’s a weak thing compared to his usual starfire grins, which reliably send heat searing down Ed’s spine. This sad smile makes Ed want to protect him, and he will, even if Ed has to protect Roy from Ed himself.

“I’ve already eaten, but please, help yourself. I’ve made your favourite curry. If you don’t mind I’ll go for a quick shower and join you after?”

It’s a reasonable request. There’s no reason for Ed to turn him down, but he _wants_ to. He’s had a long day and he wants nothing more than to have dinner with his Husband. But Roy must have had a long day too. Maybe a hot shower will do something for the faint lines of distress writ on his forehead. “Sure,” Ed says, because Roy’s still waiting for his response, and bites back on the dirty joke hiding behind his teeth, a familiar reminder to scrub well. It doesn’t feel - well. Something tells him it wouldn’t go over well. 

Roy doesn’t emerge from the bathroom until Ed’s finished with dinner, done all the dishes, and is ready to go to bed. He comes out dressed in his dorky pyjamas and his hair is still wet and uncombed, and he looks so gorgeous that Ed can’t believe he’s actually married to this man. Roy blushes under his adoring gaze and crawls under the covers, so that Ed can snuggle him to sleep.

Roy responds to this with as much affection as he usually does, which is a lot. So Ed doesn’t actually think anything is wrong until he wakes up at three in the morning to the sound of Roy’s rumbling stomach. He knows from the careful stillness of Roy’s body that he’s not actually asleep.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice raspy from sleep.

“I’m fine, love. Go back to sleep.” Roy... doesn’t sound like he’s slept at all.

“I can get you a snack if you’re hungry?” Ed ventures, because he’s tried to sleep hungry enough times in his life to know how miserable it can be.

“No, it’s alright, thanks,” Roy replies, and there’s something in his voice, tense and miserable. He’s not alright but Ed doesn’t know how to make it better.

“I love you,” he tries after a long while, because that always makes _him_ feel better. He wraps his hands around Roy’s own and brings them to his mouth, so that he can press soft kisses to worn knuckles and calloused fingers. This too, is something he’s learned from Roy.

“I love you too, darling,” Roy says, and Ed can hear the smile in his voice and not a single trace of a lie. At least there’s that.

Though, when Ed makes Roy’s favourite pancakes the following morning and slathers them with butter and jam, just the way Roy likes, it’s a lie when Roy says he’s not in the mood for anything sweet.

Ed will keep trying. 

-  
  
When Riza turns up at his lab one afternoon a week later, Ed is beginning to panic. He can’t remember the last time he saw Roy eat, and that’s unsettling. True enough, between the two of them, _Ed’s_ the bigger eater, but Roy’s no slouch either. Some of Ed’s fondest memories with Roy take place over a shared meal.

The furrow of her brow tells Ed that she’s noticed it too, and for a split second he’s blindingly grateful that he’s not alone in his crusade to take care of Roy. Riza is a god-send.

He steps out of the lab, not even bothering to excuse himself, so that he and Riza can find a more secluded place to talk about this. They move to a bench in the herb garden, which becomes very empty, very quickly, once people notice the Hawk's Eye and the Fullmetal Alchemist are there. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Ed confesses, in a show of genuine personal growth. Wild horses couldn’t have made him admit that, fifteen years ago. “I’ve been trying everything. I made Gracia's apple pie the other day and he didn’t even taste it.”

The creases on Riza’s forehead deepen further, and there’s a harshness to the press of her lips that declares just how concerned she is about the situation.

“I think he’s trying to lose weight. He’s been exercising more, recently. Did you say anything to him? You know how he is about his image,” she says, and her tone is not at all accusatory but Ed still bristles in outrage. Still, Riza has never led him astray. He lets the anger pass and does her the courtesy of thinking about it.

Long moments pass before he shakes his head. “No,” he confirms. “I haven’t. Riza, I love him.” And this isn’t easy for him to say; he hasn’t said this to anyone other than Roy himself, and sometimes he wonders if his lack of expressiveness isn’t enough to make Roy leave him, eventually. “I love everything about him. What could I have possibly said to make him feel any differently?”

Riza shakes her head, because she doesn’t know either. Ed is famously blunt, but what people fail to understand about this is that he’s just telling the truth. It’s not that he doesn’t care about the listener’s feelings; it’s just that he respects them enough to not play verbal games. What he says is what he thinks, and he never says anything he doesn’t believe. He _adores_ Roy, just as much as he adores Al. He can’t have said anything to Roy that could have made him stop eating, because he doesn’t _think_ anything like that. Internal consistency is important to him.

“Did someone at the office say something to him?”

Riza shakes her head again. “Not within my hearing,” she specifies, because that’s fair. Anyone with sense wouldn’t insult Roy within Riza’s hearing. Not for nothing has she earned herself the unflattering title of Mustang’s terrier.

Though, if Ed were asked to characterize, he’d say Riza was more of a wolfhound. He’s not been asked, though, so he says nothing.

“Do you really think it has something to do with his image?” he asks instead. He tries to think of the ways Roy has changed since they first met, and the ways that he hasn’t.

His hair is now shot with silver, though it’s as thick and soft as it has always been. His face is more wrinkled, but he’s got a fair number of laugh lines and frown lines, and Ed likes to think he’s contributed equally to both. His shoulders have always looked broad to Ed, but with the benefit of hindsight he can see that where they'd once been inflated with youth and bravado, now they are the shoulders of a grown man; strong and solid enough to bear the weight of an entire country.

Nor is Roy as lithe as he’d once been, but that’s a natural consequence of a desk-bound job. It’s not like he’s big, not that Ed would have minded either way. It’s just that he’s a little less muscular than he’d once been, a little softer in some places; his hips, his thighs, his belly, and especially his gorgeous ass.

As far as Ed is concerned, it just means there's more of Roy to love.

He’d loved Roy’s six-pack when they were younger, and he loves Roy’s softer body now, and it makes no difference that Roy’s body isn’t tight enough to bounce a coin off, because it is  _Roy’s_ body all the same, as familiar and loved as Ed's own. There is a quiet pride in knowing that Roy is popular enough that he doesn't have to expect an attack around every corner. A relief in the knowledge that he can rely on the people around him to keep him safe in the event he _i_ _s_ attacked. Roy's body is a sign that Amestris is no longer at war, and Ed can't think of _anything_ better than that knowledge. 

Riza sighs and shrugs, but from her that’s as good as a confirmation.

Someone had once asked him why he wasn’t more jealous that Roy was so close to his female adjutant. Ed had had to think for a long time before he could come up with an answer, but it essentially boiled down to this; Ed trusted Roy. Ed trusted his partner, and he also _loved_ his partner enough that he wanted Roy to be loved more than he could _stand_. He knew Riza and respected her greatly, even though he’d never be as close to her as Roy was, but it didn't matter. In the same way, Roy would never be as close to Al as Ed was. It would’ve been so unfair if Ed had isolated Roy from everyone who cared for him, as a precondition of his own love.

Besides, at times like this, it’s useful to be on good terms with the one person who knows Roy’s mind better than he knows his own.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ed promises. Riza nods and pats him on the shoulder, once. She doesn’t need words to convey her approval.

-

There isn’t time that night, because Roy gets home late. There isn’t time the following night either, because there are administrative meetings every Friday night, and Roy can’t afford to miss a single one, now that he’s Fuhrer.

Ed doesn’t sleep at all that night, in part because he’s waiting for Roy to get home, and in part because he’s planning how to ambush his husband in the morning. Unfortunately Roy’s always been the tactician between them, so Ed sticks with what he knows.

He lets Roy sleep in late, and just when he’s beginning to rouse, Ed rolls on top of him and kisses him awake. Roy’s arms come around him, palms landing on Ed’s ass, and Ed can’t help the hum of contentedness that seeps out of him. Nothing in the world is better than this feeling. He kisses Roy as deeply as he can, trying to convey all his affection and his adoration. Roy has clearly infected him incurably with his sap.

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Roy gazing back at him, face mirroring his affection. He can’t make himself move away, so he just stays there, noses touching, so close that he’s going a little cross-eyed from trying to look at his lover. Roy breaks first, laughing at the face Ed is undoubtedly making. Ed grins and pulls back to a more reasonable distance, and then sticks out his tongue and crosses his eyes, just to make Roy laugh once more. The sound of his laughter is a little rusty with sleep, but Ed can't help but wonder; when is the last time he heard Roy laugh?

Ed sighs and lies down on top of Roy’s body, chest to chest, and tucks his face into Roy’s neck. He’s learned his lesson to be careful about his words, so he asks, “will you talk to me?”

Unfortunately it has the same effect as the dreaded ‘ _we need to talk_ ’, and Ed can feel Roy’s entire body seize up with tension. Ed slides his fingers beneath Roy's body and squeezes, and then kisses Roy’s ear lobe softly. He waits for Roy to respond instead of taking his physical reaction as an answer; that’s another lesson he’s long learned.

“What about, darling?” Roy asks, and if Ed hadn’t been pressed against him, he’d have though the tone almost normal. Like this, he can feel Roy swallowing hard, can feel the way his heart has sped up.

“You haven’t been eating much, recently. I want to know if you’re alright.”

Roy laughs but there’s nothing happy about it. “I’m fine, darling. I’m just not very hungry. I promise, I’m looking after myself.”

“You’re lying to me,” Ed says, because he can tell. He’s always been able to tell, with Roy.

Roy doesn’t bother denying it. “Let me up, love. I have some work to do,” he lies again.

Ed sighs and doesn’t budge. “No, you don’t. And no, I won’t. You’re staying here until you tell me what’s wrong.” He’d hoped that – well. He’d suspected that there’d be a fight, because Roy _never_ admits to anything being wrong, but he’d hoped for a peaceable resolution all the same.

Roy shifts beneath him and Ed kisses his neck, breathing in the scent of Roy Mustang, of sleep-sweat and clean bedsheets and poncey bodywash. There’s a burn mark on Roy’s shoulder which inches all the way up the side of Roy’s neck, and Ed can feel the shiny-smooth skin of the scar beneath his lips. Every inch of Roy’s body is familiar to him.

“Ed, please don’t,” Roy starts and doesn’t finish. He’s not talking about the kissing or the hugging.

“Roy, we promised each other once that we’d never hide from each other again.” And it’s probably dirty pool, bringing up their vows like this, but Ed’s not above playing dirty.

“It’s really nothing,” Roy lies.

Ed sighs and kisses Roy’s neck again. Then he slides his hands down Roy’s back, pressed between his body and the mattress, until they come to rest on his hips. Roy stays very still until Ed’s fingers start to inch beneath his shirt and that’s when he flinches, _hard_. Oh, he tries to disguise it by surging up and trying to roll Ed off him, but Ed’s ready for it, and clings to Roy’s body like a monkey, lacing their arms and legs together, pulling Roy’s body along with him so that they’re still together, just with their positions reversed. Roy is breathing harder than he should be, and Ed knows panic when he sees it.

“That’s not nothing, Roy.”

Roy goes soft and limp, but Ed knows better than to assume that Roy would ever surrender so easily. He keeps his grip up, keeps them pressed heart-to-heart. Roy pretends for another moment before giving in. He should have known better than to try fooling Ed. It occurs to Ed that maybe Roy doesn’t want to admit to it.

“Will you let me hazard a guess?” he asks. Hazard is a word Roy taught him once, years ago, because Roy kept calling him a health hazard, to the general public and to Roy, himself. Ed has worn it like a badge of pride.

Roy doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t flinch away either. “Someone said something to you. Something about how you don’t look like a Fuhrer. Something about your body or your age. Something about you being replaced by someone younger?” They’re all educated guesses, and Ed figures that it’s a combination of the above.

Roy heaves a sigh and pushes himself back, elbows on the pillow on either side of Ed’s head. Ed lets him go this time, because this isn’t Roy trying to escape. _This_ is what Roy’s surrender looks like. He presses a kiss against Ed’s forehead and then shifts sideways to lie on his own side of the bed. Ed turns to face him and laces their fingers together between them. “I love you,” Ed says, because it’s never a bad time to say it, even when he's just waiting for an answer from Roy.

“I love you too,” Roy replies, and like every time he says it, it sounds like he _means_ it, not like he’s just reciting the words by rote. "Someone pointed out that it was about time for you to trade me in for a younger model,” he says, long moments later.

Ed sees red.

He doesn’t think he’s been this angry in a long time; perhaps since the last time someone insinuated that Roy had achieved his current position by spreading his legs.

When he comes back to himself, he realises he’s squeezing Roy’s fingers too hard. Roy doesn't complain, and instead just pets Ed's hair like he knows it's the best way to get Ed down from his murderous peaks. It helps, to some extent. “Who was it?” 

Roy shakes his head. “It’s not important,” he tries to say.

“Like _hell_ , Roy. Who said it? Maybe they can say it to my _face_.” At least, they can _try_. Ed’s not yet so domesticated that he can’t break a couple of faces with his fist.

“It’s really not important, Ed. I know you wouldn’t. I know you’d never – I trust you.”

The anger in Ed fizzles away, like someone’s pulled a plug somewhere inside him. “Good,” he says lamely, failing to convey everything he means to say. “I don't want anyone else. I would never, Roy.”

“I know, my darling. I know you wouldn’t. But it got me thinking.” Ed bites back his smart comments. He’s not that person, anymore. “It's true that I’ve let myself go, isn't it? I’m definitely not the man I was when we met.” Roy looks down at his own body a little ruefully, and Ed knows what he's seeing. He's seeing an amalgamation of scars, an encyclopedia of aches and pains. An armory of weapons that just don't work the way they used to, a little rusted and broken, edges blunt from disuse.

He doesn't see what Ed sees. A body that is, despite everything, still working and whole. Knees that hold him upright, and a back that hasn't bowed from the weight of his grief. Hands that cradle Ed so gently that he feels like the most precious thing in the world. A heart that beats and beats and _beats_ , that doesn't give up even when it feels like the whole world is conspiring against it. Ed sees  _life_.

Ed rolls his eyes, even though he doesn’t mean to. “Well, thank god for that, Roy. You were twenty-six. I was _twelve_ when we first met. You weren't a kid, sure, but you were still just a young man. You’re an _adult_ now, and so am I. God, Roy, I’m so fucking _grateful_ that you’re older, now.” Ed can feel a lump rising in his throat and he swallows hard to keep it down, because this isn’t about him. This is about Roy. “There were days when I thought we’d never get here, Roy. Days when I thought neither one of us would survive this long.”

Roy’s eyes are a little misty now, and Ed hopes he doesn’t cry. If he cries, Ed’s going to cry, and then they’re never going to get anywhere with this conversation.

“I can't think of anything about your body that I don't like,” Ed continues, because it's true. “And maybe this doesn’t reflect well on me, but I haven’t even noticed your body changing, because nothing like that could make me love you any less.” Again, true. He’s observant enough, but only for things that matter. This _doesn't matter_. 

Roy subtly inches closer to him, but Ed doesn’t have time for that bullshit. He slides himself right into the curve of Roy’s body, into a chest that is softer than it had once been, covering a steadfast heart that has not changed one bit.

“I love you, you stupid _fucker_ ,” Ed spits, because god _damn_ him for making Ed have to say all of this. He’d thought it was obvious. “I love _all_ of you,” he continues, digging his fingers into rounder hips, pressing his palm against a softer stomach. “You dumb shit,” he swears again, because he doesn’t have any other words left, just a bubbling seething mess in his stomach, fury that Roy could think any less of himself when he’s – he’s the most important person in Ed’s universe; and grief that maybe he hadn’t done a good enough job of convincing Roy of the fact.

He doesn’t even realise that tears are leaking from his eyes until Roy’s wiping them away with gentle fingers, and then with tender kisses. He ducks his head away because he didn’t mean to cry. He doesn't  _want_ to cry. “Never have I felt safer in my life,” he chokes out, “than when your weight is on top of me. How _dare_ you try to take that from me,” he demands, forcing his broken voice to be steady beneath the heft of his emotion.

Roy’s hands are trembling ever so slightly when he tilts Ed’s face up to kiss him, and his lips are salty-sweet. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, through the wetness. “I’m so sorry, Ed.”

That’s not right either. The point wasn’t to make Roy feel guilty, or to make him apologise. Somehow, Ed’s managed to make this about him anyway, and it’s not what he’d planned to do. He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry, Roy. I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to trust me.”

“I _do_ ,” Roy swears, suddenly very serious. “I trust you with everything, Ed, I promise. I just wanted to be better. To be good enough for you.”

Ed’s sorrow turns rapidly into grief, and regret. “What,” he asks, shaking all over, drawing back a little, “made you think that you’re not good enough for me? What did I do?” he asks, because maybe the person he needs to be angry with is himself. Maybe Riza was right, and he just doesn't remember. Maybe _he’d_ made a comment that made Roy think –

“Nothing,” Roy says pulling Ed back against him. “I promise, you haven’t done anything to make me think that. It’s just – you know how I am, sometimes.” _Boy_ , does he. “I just started thinking and I couldn’t stop. It just – I got stuck thinking of all the things that I need to improve about myself, and this seemed like the easiest. I can’t eat like I used to, because I’m older now. I need to exercise more, because I’m not running around in the field with you, anymore. It just seemed obvious. I don’t want to take us for granted just because we've been together for so long. I don’t want to be the reason you – I don’t want you to be any less attracted to me, because I’m too lazy to exercise, you know?”

Roy’s telling the truth now, and it makes Ed want to _scream_. “I swear to god, Roy, you’re an idiot.” Roy huffs a laugh. “I can’t believe I have to explain to you that eighteen-hour work days don’t make you ‘too lazy to exercise’. I cannot _believe_ this is what it has come to. And I can’t believe you’re going to make me say this, I’ll never forgive you for it, but I _want_ you to rely on me. I _want_ you to take me for granted. I will always have your back,” Ed swears. He’s not sure if he’s saying it right, but he hopes Roy understand what he means.

“Lean on me. _Trust_ me. I’m not going anywhere until you ask me to leave. I’m with you. You don’t have to prove yourself to me anymore. I want us to be like bedrock. Just love me the way you have for so many years. I’ll love you back. I don’t want anything else from you.”

“Okay,” Roy says, and it sounds like he’s finally sure. Like he’s heard what Ed is saying, and he’s accepted it. “I love you, Ed.”

“You going to start taking care of yourself again? Properly, I mean?” Ed asks, tracing fingers down the curve of Roy’s cheek, prickly with salt-and-pepper stubble. Ed wants to feel it with his lips.

“Yes,” Roy sighs, pressing his cheek into Ed’s palm. “Yes, I promise. With such an effective deterrent, how can I not?” he teases.

“And you’ll start taking care of me too?” Ed asks, because if Roy is teasing, he’s more-or-less okay now. “I’ve been missing you more than a little bit,” he says, sliding his hand below Roy’s waist, and Roy can’t help but kiss him, wet and open-mouthed. His stubble rasps against Ed's lips and leaves them stinging. “Been missing all your little bits, too,” Ed mumbles when he catches a breath, pressing the words into Roy’s mouth in between sandpaper kisses.

Roy growls and flips them so that he’s on top of Ed again, one knee firmly pressed between Ed’s thighs. “I’ll show you _little_ ,” he promises, making Ed laugh aloud into the next kiss, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted. He wraps his arms around Roy’s neck and they grin at each other for a moment, until something else growls.

Ed laughs again, but the tone is different. “Food first, Roy.”

“Food can wait,” he tries, leaning into another kiss. Ed indulges him until his stomach rumbles again, and then the moment is broken.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Fuhrer Mustang. After all, you’re going to need your energy today.”

And with that tease, Ed is gone. As he always does, like a magnet to the North pole, Roy follows. After all, Ed always keeps his promises. 


End file.
